Everyone's A Psychopath
by Gnome Ignominious
Summary: Series of one-shots using items of psychopathy as prompts.
1. ITEM I: GLIBNESS OR SUPERFICIAL CHARM

**A/N:** I am proud to present this new series of one-shots with the prompt for each one being one of the items used to diagnose psychopathy. There are two factors: aggressive narcissism and socially deviant lifestyle and 20 items, 18 of which fit under these two factors. The remaining two are uncategorised. First up...

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><p><strong>FACTOR I, ITEM I: GLIBNESS SUPERFICIAL CHARM**

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><p><em>Stacy: God, you're an idiot.<em>

_House: I think I'm more of a jerk._

_Stacy: I'm not being glib._

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><p>They met at the Annual Princeton Lawyers vs Doctors Paintball Tournament.<p>

House poked his head out from behind a tree and suddenly found himself assaulted with little blobs of red paint. His mask was completely covered. He shot wildly in the direction of his attacker, but stopped when he heard a shout from his left.

"Over here, idiot!" He pulled off his mask to see a woman grinning at him, her customised dual paintball pistols slung low in a holster by her side.

"And they say doctors are meant to be smart." She tugged off her own mask to reveal shoulder length dark hair surrounding an angular face.

"Yeah, well," he groused. "Whoever has the red paintballs always wins."

"The doctors didn't win last year. You had the red balls then," she told him.

"Fluke," he said. "This year it's blue balls all round, anyway."

She looked at him, not sure whether he was being serious.

"Oh. Wait. Um... that came out wrong."

She laughed. "With blue balls I can see why." The tips of House's ears went red. This woman was pretty. And brunette. The brunettes always did it for him. He hoped he didn't look too foolish.

She saved him from his embarrassment.

"I'm Stacy. Constitutional lawyer."

"Greg. Nephrologist and the go-to guy for infectious disease."

They shook hands.

"So," she said. "wanna grab a drink?"

And there was the beginning of their relationship. A chance encounter and some swift incincerities. The very definition of glib.


	2. ITEM II: GRANDIOSE SENSE OF SELF WORTH

**FACTOR I, ITEM II: GRANDIOSE SENSE OF SELF-WORTH**

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><p><em>Patient: You have great yabos.<em>

_Cuddy: That still could have been either of us._

_House: You lose._

_Cuddy: Seriously... I have always thought my breasts were one of my best features._

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><p>Lisa Cuddy prided herself on how well she kept in shape. Even after she adopted Rachel, she did yoga as regularly as possible and still sometimes went for a run. Although her sister had the better luck, family-wise, Lisa felt that she had won the contest in both looks and personality.<p>

She tried to emphasise this as much as she could at work without being inappropriate, but House often called her on it by pointedly staring at her breasts in the middle of a conversation, not that she really minded. Something deep down inside her craved the male attention. It struck one night after yet another hopeless blind date that she dressed more provocatively for her job than for a night out in a bar with a complete stranger.

And then she realised she didn't care.

It was her life; she could do what she wanted. She didn't have to conform to society's expectations.

She could be special.

It was this idea that drove Cuddy from very early on in her career. It was this mindset that had landed her the spot of second youngest, first ever female Dean of Medicine.

She _was_ special.

She loved the feeling of power that her job gave her. She liked to think of herself as the brain of the hospital; without her, everything would stop functioning, doctors and departments would shut down.

She knew she was indispensible. She also knew that it was partly down to her breasts.


	3. ITEM III: PATHOLOGICAL LYING

**A/N:** This one is set mid-season 4

**FACTOR I, ITEM III: PATHOLOGICAL LYING**

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><p><em>Cameron: Whatever happened to everybody lies?<em>

_House: I was lying when I said that. You must be so confused._

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><p>When Stacy gets home, she is reminded of the lie she is living. She never told Mark about her one night stand with House. She does not want to ruin his naivety. He is doing much better now; the porphyria attacks are much less frequent and they have been able to get on in their lives with relative ease.<p>

When Amber gets home, she reflects on her day at work whilst reading up obscure cases and diagnoses on the internet. She doesn't want to be caught out tomorrow. She is desperate for this job, for the opportunity to work under the man whom she considers to be the greatest doctor around at the moment. His complete disregard for rules, authority and most of all, honesty, is fantastic. So what if she lied about her credentials to guarantee herself an interview spot and a position as one of the lucky forty? If you're not cheating, you're not trying hard enough.

When Kutner gets home, he pretends like nothing ever happened during the day. He pretends he's someone who doesn't carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, who's just a non-entity. He knows thousands of people around the world, knows all the details of their lives thanks to blogging, Twitter and the like. They don't know a thing about him. They may think they do, but how much is the truth? He lives in the US, he spends nearly all of his time online in some way... but anything beyond that? It's a lie. They don't need to know.

When Taub gets home and sees his wife already asleep in bed, he wonders whether he should just give up, turn around and walk back out. His home life is not very satisfying and he finds himself spending increasing amounts of time at the hospital, doing anything he can to delay going home, because he knows when he does step through that door, it's going to be even harder to leave again, the kernel of truth he carries inside him weighing in his stomach like a stone. He knows the rest of his existence is a lie, though. He should tell his wife about the affair, but he's too cowardly. He wants to get drunk, pick up a stranger, forget. The kernel of truth gets smaller every day.

When Thirteen gets home, she collapses onto the sofa and doesn't move for at least half an hour, worn out with the stress of work, trying to succeed under a ruthless boss and even more ruthless colleagues. She doesn't know how much longer she has before a secret slips out and she knows once one is revealed, the rest won't be far behind. Working for House is like working under a lie detector with a penchant for humiliation and burrowing into private matters. She knows he doesn't do it out of compassion; he just wants any answers to anything he can think of. So she lies. To him, to her co-workers, It's the only way she can stay sane.

When Foreman gets home, he does anything he can to stop his mind from wandering into painful subjects. He tries not to think about his mother and her constantly deteriorating condition. He hasn't seen her for around two years now, and engineers his time so that he always misses the phonecalls from his father. He tells himself he'll call back tomorrow, or next week, or when the next patient is discharged, but that's a lie. He won't call back. He also tries not to think about his brother. The young offender, turned not-so young offender, serving his time in the state prison. It's been even longer since they've seen each other. Foreman doubts that his brother even knows about their mother's declining condition, and if he did, doubts that he would care. Foreman knows that his brother is where he belongs and tells himself that's not a lie.

When Cameron gets home, she lies to Chase about her day. She tells him that she enjoys working in the ER, that she loves only having Cuddy as her superior, loves not having House looming over her every move, questioning her judgement. But it's not true. She misses working in Diagnostics, misses the snarky banter. The tightness in her chest grows a little every time another broken leg or cracked skull is admitted and she longs for a mysterious case that she can dig her teeth into. Fortunately, she is with the man she loves now, and it is his firm belief that there should be secrets in a relationship. She doesn't lie too much; only about her job... and her feelings for him, of course.

When Chase gets home, he screws up his courage and faces Cameron. He asks her the same question he always does, and gets he same response, although he's well aware it's a lie. He knows Cameron is unhappy in the ER and wants back in on House's team, but he's unsure whether that's because she misses the medicine or the man. He doesn't mention any of this to her, never voices his concerns or thoughts. After all, the lies help the relationship go smoothly, and they seem like a happy couple to everyone else. He lies to make other people happy, and if that makes him happy, he's not about to stop.

When Cuddy gets home, she finally feels she can drop the lies. She is safe within her four walls, there is no pretense needed. If anyone asks, she'd say she loves her job. If anyone asks, she's say she's fine with her personal life, not really looking to date. Of course, they wouldn't be within her four walls, so her answers may well be lies. She doesn't need any help or interference from others; she's a strong, independent woman making a lie for herself. Sorry, life.

When Wilson gets home, he takes off his nice guy persona and hangs it in the closet so it's not creased for tomorrow. As an oncologist, he cannot lie, at least not to patients, however tempting it might be. There are the ones he feels he must care about, because he sees himself in them; alone and lonely, and dying to boot. He wants to lie to them, tell them it's going to be all right. Then there are the jerks, the bitches and the morons; he wants to lie to them even if they're going to be fine- it would be fun to watch them squirm. Unfortunately, his nice guy persona stops him from doing that. But in the confies of his own home, nothing can stop him from inventing the lies.

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><p>When House gets home, he sits silently and lets the night roll in around him. He has no-one to lie to.<p> 


	4. ITEM IV: CUNNING OR MANIPULATIVE

**FACTOR I, ITEM IV: CUNNING/ MANIPULATIVE**

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><p><em>Amber: Don't give me that honest day's labour crap. We all went to med school so we wouldn't have to do an honest days labour.<em>

_Cole: What about an honest hour's labour? In exchange we get a shot at learning from one of the best diagnosticians in the world._

_Amber: No, we don't, if we did we'd be one of the one's drawing blood or checking for toxins. We're done. He's just not going to cut us loose until we've dusted his shelves and starched his shirts! I'm out of here. Who's with me?_

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><p>Amber Volakis was a woman who knew what she wanted.<p>

She'd wanted to become a doctor since high school, where her arch nemesis Lauren Baker had announced on career day that it was her lifelong ambition to heal the sick. Amber could still remember the very day; a hot, dry afternoon holding promise of a homework free weekend.

Crammed into a stuffy lecture theatre, she'd listened to endless visiting speakers drone on about their dreams and ambitions, and how they'd worked through difficulties to find the right career path for them. Lauren and her gang of peroxide-blonde Barbies had sat at the very back, as usual, mocking those who actually took an interest in what the speakers had to say. Amber sat off to the side, watching them and the rest of the class. It was a regular habit of hers; looking for people's little tells and tics, finding the cracks in their exterior and gently widening them.

When Lauren had spread the word of her high-flying career ideas, Amber felt compelled to follow her down the same route. She didn't have the money that Lauren's parents had, but she had the brains, the guts and the drive to overcome anything. She wanted to teach Lauren a lesson she would never forget, by beating her at her own game.

In the end, Amber got her goal: she acheived better grades than Lauren, got into a more prestigious medical school and landed places at various well-known and impressive institutions that far out-ranked anything Lauren could have attained. Or so Amber thought, anyway. She'd lost contact (not that she'd wanted to keep it) after high school and didn't know how Lauren was doing. She expected she'd dropped out after the first five minutes of medical school.

So, it came as a very nasty shock when, on the first day of her new fellowship at Princeton Plainsboro under the world renowned Dr House, crammed into a lecture hall which hearkened back to that career day long ago, she saw Lauren.

It was unmistakeably her. What stung the most, however, was seeing the number she flaunted around her neck. 1. Amber felt a surge of jealousy. That should be hers! She was number one! She had never let herself think otherwise. She wanted to get Lauren fired from this job as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Dr House was the only one who could do that. She would have to speak to him.

She hung back after the first meeting the candidates had, where House introduced himself and his way of doing things, which they, apparently, weren't allowed to disobey. They weren't meant to see each other socially, or conspire about any patients; he wanted a clear-cut picture of every individual with no outside influences. Amber immediately broke these rules, by daring to speak to the man himself.

When everyone else had left, she watched him gather his things, putting his guitar carefully away in its case and tucking the amp away into a corner.

"Dr House?" She moved forward to shake his hand, but he didn't switch his cane over. "I'm Doctor-"

"Don't need your name," he said tersely. "What do you want?"

"I want you to fire Number One."

He frowned. "Now why would I do that? We've only just started, got no reason to fire them."

Amber noticed his left hand ghost towards his right thigh and rest there, unmoving. The knuckles of his right hand were tight. He jerked his head in the direction of the door.

"I need to pay a visit to the pharmacy. We can talk on the way."

She followed him out of the hall and into the bustling corridors, only pausing briefly to wait for the elevator, then onwards again into the clinic (quiet for once) to stop at the pharmacy. Amber stood to one side as House went to the counter for his meds.

"Hey Marco."

"Dr House." It was clear that they held some mutual respect for one another. "The usual?"

House nodded and passed over his prescription and Marco disappeared into the shelves of packets and pill bottles. Amber wondered what the usual was. She opened her mouth to speak, but House cut her off.

"Could you just wait five minutes? I'll be much more amiable on the other side of the dose, believe me."

She restrained a scowl and carefully schooled her features into indifference. She wanted to make her point _now_. Lauren couldn't win this ten year battle.

Marco returned with a small amber bottle of pills which House took, thanking the pharmacist. He quickly uncapped the bottle and dry swallowed a pill, making Amber cringe in sympathy for his oesophagus. He must have been doing that for while to acquire such an air of practised ease.

"What do you take?"

"Vicodin."

She nodded. That was the only response she could come up with. He walked away from the pharmacy counter, out towards the elevators again. Amber followed, wondering where they were going.

"You want me to fire Number One. Why?"

"It's surely more interesting for you if you don't know." They stepped on to the elevator and House pressed the button for the fourth floor. His office, then.

"See, that kind of an answer is just annoying."

"But it has the added bonus of being absolutely true. I hear the truth is a big thing for you."

"You have very good hearing." The elevator doors slid open and they walked the short distance to his office. Amber noticed House's limp was considerably less pronounced now he'd had his meds. She didn't envy his pain. He plopped into the chair behind his desk and gestured for her to take a seat.

"Thank you."

"You are also extremely manipulative. I assume this isn't the first time you've heard that."

"Both of my parents, my brother, three school teachers, two professors in med school, one librarian and a bus driver. I do try."

House shifted in his seat. This woman, Number 24 (her name escaped him), was slightly unsettling in her ruthless desire to get a colleague fired immediately. He could only assume that the two had met before and now 24 held a grudge against some old slight. Then he remembered what happensedif you assume. He figured it couldn't hurt to make sure.

"You will get your wish." 24's face visibly brightened. "Provided you tell me one thing. Where did you first meet her?"

"High school."

House nodded. So they went way back. He was half-tempted not to get rid of Number 1, just to enjoy the friction it would no doubt create. But he felt that was a little unfair; instead he could just use this opportunity to test how cunning 24 really was.

"Okay, I will say this. I am not going to directly fire her; however, a chance may present itself in the next couple of days in which either of us can induce her to quit. Sound all right to you?"

"It's a plan. Thank you, Dr House."

He shrugged it off. "Just helping out; y'know, one crazy cutthroat fiend to another."

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><p>Two days later, Amber successfully got rid of six rival candidates by helping them to realise washing House's car wasn't getting them anywhere, and they would be better off quitting. One of them was Lauren Baker, formerly known as Number 1.<p>

Amber breathed a sigh of relief. She had finally won.

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><p><strong>AN: **This chapter pretty much wrote itself! However, I don't really feel it stuck to the prompt particularly well, but once I'd started I didn't want to let this idea/plot thingy go. Tell me what you think.


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